Re’eh: Tzedaka, the Feminine Way

When it comes to tzedaka, the Torah’s commandment is twofold. The pasuk tells us not to harden our heart nor to withhold our hand (Devarim 15:7). These two elements of the Torah’s commandment speak to two different parts of us: the emotional and the physical. On an emotional level, the Torah tells us not to block ourselves from feelings of compassion. And on a practical level, not to hold back from the actual act of giving. The pasuk in this week’s parsha resonates so deeply with every Jewish woman because we are constantly given opportunities to perform acts of tzedaka. Both to feel and to do. 

The mundane acts of a Jewish woman’s life; laundry, shopping, cooking meals and more are true acts of chesed. Both for the main recipients of her kindness, her family, and also for those she invites into her home. Rebbetzin Lankry quotes the Gemara in Taanit which tells of the great power of a woman’s tzedaka. In the time of Reb Abba Chilkiya, the land suffered from drought and the people came to Reb Chilkiya to beg him to pray. Both Reb Chilkiya and his wife stood on opposite sides of their roof, crying out to Hashem to bring down the rains. It was on the side of the roof where Reb Chilkiya’s wife prayed that the first drops were seen and Reb Chilkiya declared that it was because of her higher level of tzedaka. Reb Chilkiya explained that while he gave money to the poor, this still necessitated work for the poor person to purchase food and clothing. However, when his wife opened the door to the poor person, she gave freshly cooked food, a far greater level which requires no effort on the part of the poor person.

One practical lesson we can draw from this Gemara is the power of hands-on preparation and thought. Whether it is for our husband, children or someone outside of our family circle in need, when we pause to consider how we can give in a way that requires the least work for the receiver, we climb up towards the level of tzedaka achieved by Reb Chilkiya’s wife. Maybe it is a night we are unavailable and instead of leaving our family to prepare their own supper, we could prepare it ourselves in advance so all they have to do is heat it. It may sound insignificant, but from the way that Hashem answered the tefillot of Reb Chilkiya’s wife first, we see that handing someone prepared food is a different level entirely from giving them the money to do so themselves. Reb Chilkiyaโ€™s wife combines both parts of the pasuk, heart and hands. Her heart was thoughtful in wanting to prepare hot, tasty meals and her hands were effective in carrying it out.

We may feel that such a level of taking the responsibility of tzedaka into our hearts and hands is beyond us. But the Chomat Anach reads the pasuk in a reassuring way, providing us with encouragement. The Chomat Anach explains that by nature, the heart of every Jew is merciful, possessing an innate desire to give. The pasuk does not tell us to go out of our way to give tzedaka. Rather, the pasuk tells us not to harden our heart. Meaning, not to deviate from the natural desire of our heart and start debating โ€œshould I give, should I not?โ€ As long as we don’t harden our hearts against our natural love of tzedaka, we can continually give as the nation of rachmanim (merciful ones) and gomlei chassadim (kind ones) which we are. 

Other mefarshim understand the pasuk in a slightly different way. The Ibn Ezra explains that the mitzva to not harden one’s heart is actually a verbal mitzva and requires a person to not withhold comforting words from the poor person. Resources may come and go throughout life but something we can always offer is uplifting words. Rabbeinu Bachya echoes this idea, quoting the Gemara in Bava Batra 9a that comforting someone with words is the greatest gift of all. When we hear that someone is experiencing a challenge of any kind, we may not be equipped with the time, money or specific resources to help them. But we can speak kindly when we meet them, send them an encouraging message or letter and even pick up the phone to let them know we are thinking of them. To withhold our loving words of support is considered by the Torah that we are withholding our heart.

We may wonder why we even need to extend ourselves in this way. Hashem is perfect, with infinite resources and could easily provide for all those in need. Why should we be the ones to push ourselves? To find the time to visit someone in hospital and cheer them up? To pay a Shiva call? To make a nourishing meal for a post-partum mother? The answer can be found in the wording of the pasuk. The Ohr HaChaim comments that the Torah writes as an introduction to the commandment to not harden our heart or withhold our hand (Devarim 15:7) โ€œim yihiyeh becha evyonโ€ if there is a poor person among you. The Ohr HaChaim suggests that โ€œbechaโ€ โ€œamong youโ€ can also be translated as โ€œfor youโ€ or โ€œon your behalf.โ€ Although this applies to tzedaka, we could equally apply it to chesed. It is for our sake that Hashem created lackโ€“ so that we would become more giving people when we fill it. Hashem presents us with people in our lives who need our time, resources, expertise, experience or advice for one reason โ€“ so that we become G-dly by providing that need. While of course the poor person receiving a donation and a mourner hearing words of comfort is of paramount importance, the purpose of all this is to make us better people. 

When we open our hearts, lips and hands to help others, we make ourselves glow and radiate our inner core of rachman and gomel chessed, our true identity as Jews. So the next time you find yourself cooking for an extra guest, providing a donation at your door or running out to deliver a challa to a friend in need, remember you are the greatest recipient of your tzedaka and chessed.


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